


the things I shut

by smithens



Series: my heartbeat beat through me [1]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Daisy Mason's Arm Kink, Epistolary, F/F, Lesbian Character, Post-Canon, Self-Discovery, Sexual Identity, Ìvy Stuart (Freeform)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27190780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithens/pseuds/smithens
Summary: Once it happens, Daisy decides she was stupid for taking so long— everything makessense,after, so much more than it ever has. It's like if she'd lost something when she was very little and it's finally, finally come back.
Series: my heartbeat beat through me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984882
Comments: 13
Kudos: 29





	the things I shut

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [better late than the never we've been told before](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25300930) by [smithens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithens/pseuds/smithens). 



> > One hand finding one hand  
> Two hearts making amends with themselves  
> At their ends  
> Cause I'm not sure who I was before  
> But the day I saw you at your door  
> You opened up the things I shut  
> The things I shut  
> 
> 
> —[Mary Lambert, "Heart On My Sleeve"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KY5WNzyvcjY)
> 
> this is the first installment in a companion series to [a love that won't sit still](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747162), taking place in the same universe and using a similar epistolary structure. relevant backstory is in [better late than the never we've been told before](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25300930), [strange how I fit into you (there's a distance erased with the greatest of ease)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23708473) and [and I've been feeling weak without it (only want a real, real love)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24207037), but the gist of it is that:
> 
>   1. Daisy doesn't marry Andy in 1928...
>   2. Mrs Patmore retires in 1929...
>   3. and Ivy is her replacement.
> 

> 
> this is what comes after. :-)

_October 5, 1931_

_Dear Miss Bunting,_

_Sorry for not sending any letters for such a long time. You are very kind to keep writing to me even so. I do appreciate it._

_I hope you are well. You seemed like you were in your last letter. Though I'm sorry things didn't work out with Mr Harris. He doesn't deserve you if he treats women like that._

_You've said before I can ask you questions if I like and I have one now, though it is nothing to do with schooling or anything like that. I've been thinking on it lately and everything you wrote about what happened with him in your letter made me think of it more. But you don't have to answer it if you wouldn't like to._

_I'll just go ahead and say, it's about love. I suppose. A different sort of love, that people don't much like. Sort of what Mr Branson and Lady Sybil were. Only it's nothing to do with class really. You'll say everything is to do with class but this isn't, or not in that way at least. Just forbidden in the same way. It is to do with being a servant though a bit. Though it won't end up with anybody moving up in the world when they were low before I promise. I'm happy where I am mostly, except for where workers' rights and things need changing, but we've talked about that before and this really isn't much to do with it at all._

_Have you ever known anything like that? Yourself or anybody else. What did you do if so?_

_I like somebody very much but there are things in our way. And I suppose I am just wondering how to manage it all at once. I haven't told this person anything about how I'm feeling because I know they're feelings I shouldn't be having. Or, that is what other people think at least. I don't know if I agree or not. I think maybe I don't but I'm not sure yet. And I worry this person doesn't see me that way because of that, since it isn't something most people think well of. So, that's why I'm writing, is to see if you have an answer for me. You seem like you have answers for everything and I just thought maybe you could help me as you have done before. But we haven't spoken about this have we? So, you mustn't feel like you've got to give me answers. You said once though that there aren't any wrong questions. I know you were talking about school and book learning but I did suppose I should ask._

_Thank you very much, no matter what you do. You're always so kind to me and gracious. I shall try to be better about writing more in future._

_Yours truly,_

_Daisy_

_*_

_8 th October, 1931_

_Dear Daisy,_

_I was so pleased to hear from you again! It seems they still keep you quite busy at the Abbey. Of course I'd be remiss if I didn't remind you that you've got a great many skills up your sleeve to do with as you like—if you ever get tired of working like a draught horse you can always reach out for advice about what else could be._

_Your letter was very interesting. I think, Daisy, that the world is full of all kinds of people, and we should all do well to remember the fact. We come from different places, and we do not all share the same experiences. You've led a very different sort of life to those whom you serve. You have known toil and hardship that they will never fathom for as long as they live—for lack of trying, not for incapacity._

_And yet I suspect that if this were a mere question of your continued employment you would have been more forthright. Am I correct in that? You've never shied from the subject before that I can remember._

_I do believe wholeheartedly that there are no wrong questions, whether they be pertaining to books or not—you mustn't be nervous nor ashamed of asking me about worldly matters in future, Daisy._

_Now, I'm in favour of all relationships if they are founded upon mutual respect and love, be they star-crossed or not. Of course I never knew the Lady Sybil, but it appears to me that she was more capable of the former than others of her kind. Put in simple fashion, my advice is that if there is a chance the man of whom you write is similarly inclined, you should follow your heart, no matter the prejudice and bias of others._

_Yet there are many kinds of partnerships that the people around us are unwilling to accept. Am I correct in my referring to this person as a man, Daisy? I must wonder. Now, you needn't fret about your answer. My good opinion of you is quite unlikely ever to change, and I may be more familiar with your predicament than you've guessed._

_I wish you joy and success, Daisy. Please write again soon!_

_Yours faithfully,_

_Sarah_

* * *

**Downton, September 1931**

Once it happens, Daisy decides she was stupid for taking so long— everything makes _sense,_ after, so much more than it ever has. It's like if she'd lost something when she was very little and it's finally, finally come back.

Once it _happens,_ she can look back on her whole life and answer all the questions she didn't know she had, til now. When she was a little girl and she got so upset when her best school friend moved away. When she first left home and got too attached (though she didn't know til after) to the maids at every house she worked in. When she came to _Downton,_ that time she woke up Lady Sybil… _Baking_ with Lady Sybil, in the war. The war and not loving William even though he got to be so sweet and kind and handsome, and good with people—everybody except Thomas. Thomas! Did she really ever like him so much or did she just think she was supposed to? He was nice to her, at least at first if not forever, though they're more like friends now, and better looking than William, everyone always said, even if they didn't want to think so. Having lessons with Miss Bunting. Stepping out with Andy just cause everyone told her to. Saying _yes_ when he asked her to marry him even though she never really thought he was up to it.

Men only ever caught her eye when they weren't very interested… and whenever they were, it was easy to stop liking them, cause she had dishes to cook and desserts to bake and lessons to study, too busy for one of them to take up all her time, especially when they weren't serious. That was what she'd told herself.

The only thing she hadn't been sure about was Alfred, but that was easy to figure out, too, once she thought about it...

Only now that _it's happened_ she's got a different kind of problem than she's ever known before.

If it had just happened _once…_

But it didn't.

The first time:

Something had been funny about the faucet, and all Ivy was to do was wash her hands but it went wrong—and that had reminded her suddenly of something she hadn't thought of for _years,_ and then Ivy had turned around with water droplets all over and a frown that had made Daisy laugh before doing anything else, but also her sleeves stuck to her shoulders, the pale fabric of her dress clung to her neck and her collar and her arms—her arms that had never been noteworthy before but gave her a shock when she looked at them _like that,_ made her mouth go dry.

Ivy had asked, put out, "could you get the apron, Daisy," because her hands were still dirty, and Daisy _had,_ and as she undid the tie at the small of Ivy's back felt a thrill like whenever Miss Bunting used to touch her by accident and her heart would go fast, and she'd always lean in and turn her head and try to get closer and feel warm even if the room was cold, the books momentarily forgotten.

That had been the day when she realised about a _person,_ and then it had kept happening, and happening…

Not so long ago Ivy had taken a half day and gone into York for the night, wearing rouge and lipstick and kohl round her eyes but in a way where she didn't look _different_ so much as more dramatic, more sophisticated… she'd learned that in New York, sophistication.

Daisy had spent the whole evening sulking after she'd gone—telling everybody it was because of the extra work whether or not they asked, when that hadn't been it at all, though she'd never realised til later.

She keeps realising other things, too. Lying in bed awake til late at night thinking it all over, alone in Mr Mason's house (because it's still _Mr Mason's house,_ even if it's in her name, now—well, even if hers is the name on the lease) and feeling like it more than ever.

Thinking about when they'd shared a room, all those years ago, and never looking when she dressed and undressed even though it had never been a problem with the other girls she'd roomed with, before… it doesn't seem nearly as far away as it should, she thinks. She doesn't feel as old as she is. She's never really had a chance to grow up properly.

But she's had such thoughts…

There was that book, a few years ago, all about inverts and Thomas had always gotten so awkward whenever she brought it up which was really too often, no wonder Mrs Patmore had acted so strange even when she'd said it was just political, that nobody should be kept from reading _anything_ … and the film last year… the day when she'd learned about Thomas, much later than everybody else, and hadn't that made her angry. A few years later, when everybody whispered that he had _found_ somebody, as though it were impossible but he'd done it anyway.

Him going nowhere for ages and then taking days (never more than two) off at a time.

As time passed she had found herself more and more wondering if there were women like that. How they'd be.

Thomas is nicer than he used to be, they're friends, actually, sometimes, but she won't talk to him about it. She decided that quick.

Besides, there was no point in talking about it when she didn't fancy anybody.

Now that she _does…_

Probably she still won't.

These things are meant to be secret.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr as [@combeferre](https://combeferre.tumblr.com/) ♥


End file.
